Part One
Life of an Average Housewife
To start this story you really need a little background. Married, 2 kids, Engineer, wife is a stay at home housewife. This is me, or what most people see. I met my wife in high school. She was a year younger and lived 3 doors down on the same street. I was the typical football jock and she just made the Varsity Cheer squad. Like most males my life was driven by hormones and I wanted to have sex about 30 times a day. Pretty much like all of us at that age I guess. My girlfriend, Angie, was happy to oblige. Mostly it happened in the back seat, or on camping trips in the woods, even the bathroom at school once. Well if you haven't guessed it she got pregnant the night of the Junior Prom.
Our parents were pretty peeved, as you can imagine. The family decision was we should get married at least for the baby's sake. My Dad converted our detached Garage into a small one bedroom apartment for us and we lived off the folks while I finished school and Angie attended a special school our district had for teen mothers. Lucky for me, a football scholarship paid full ride for college and we became your average struggling newlyweds. We got pregnant for the second time. I worked nights and went to school and played football for my school in my home town so it all worked out.
As soon as she graduated, now with two kids, Angie started working as a receptionist and took part time gigs as a product placement specialist. Basically she got paid to look nice and smile and hand out brochures at trade shows. Yeah I know what you are thinking but it was always in town and her outfits were basically business casual. She told me a few salesmen made passes at her but she just shut them down. Luckily both the grandmas were more that eager to provide day care. Our biggest battle with the grandma's was not hurting one of their feelings over whose turn it was.
Fast forward 15 years. The grandparents still robbed us of our kids on a regular basis. The fact that I am an engineer kinda tells you what happened to my dream of going pro but hell, the education was paid for. I make very good money and my now wife,Angie, could stay at home with the kids. We had bought a house within miles of our parents.
Sex life, like everything else, depends on life in general. I was happy with three a week except one week a month when the kids and I steered clear of Mom. That is the real reason men like me have a workshop out in the garage. Pretty standard I bet. Then slowly things began to change. My wife became more assertive in the bedroom. Her style of dress really picked up. She lost those stubborn pounds and looked, well HOT! I swear she could still get in her cheer outfit except the top was much tighter. In fact she did it for me once in awhile. All the Lingerie I had bought for her and she had worn once and put away came back out and was worn in our bedroom much more often.
My wife was just over 30 now she was the one full of hormones. I always thought that concept of sexual peak for men at 19 and women at 30 was a bunch of crap but her concept of sex was way different now than 20 years ago. Don't get me wrong. She was always willing but now she was not only willing but demanding. Hey it isn't as if I didn't love it.
My sweet wife was very creative. When the kids were still young we would be pressed into service play acting a favorite movie scene on a regular basis. Sometimes complete with costumes. The kids loved it until they got to be teens themselves then Mom was just weird. As she got older her real target for creative talent became me. To be honest, with just her and I, it was all about sex and I loved it. Let me tell you how it works. I was about to leave work on a Friday and got a text from my wife. Gramm had the kids and they were headed for the ocean. I was to meet her in a downtown hotel around 8. The desk had my key and she had packed for me.
Well this sounded good. I went over some papers and grabbed a sandwich. If she had dinner plans I could always eat again and if not I was set. I got to the desk and was handed a suite key. When I got upstairs there were directions on the bed. It said, shower, shave, and change and make myself a drink. Then sit in the chair and wait. I looked around. The suite had a bed in the center, pretty standard. The wall was all windows and the drapes were open. We had a spectacular view of the city. The chair she mentioned was to the side tucked into a corner in the dark. There was a small table for my drink and a small hand held tape player with another note. The note said, don't play this till I am in the room. Hell I ain't stupid. I took a quick shower and shaved then put on what she had laid out. I silk shirt and a pair of khakis with boater shoes no underwear. I went to the bar and made myself a scotch rocks and sat down. I realized with the drapes open and the room dark I was pretty invisible. I was just a dark figure sitting in a corner. I had such a huge boner I was worried I would blow my load before she even got there. The door buzzed from the electronic key and my wife stepped in.
I was pretty sure I had already figured out what was up but now I was positive. This was that famous Jamie Lee Curtis scene from the movie "True Lies." My god she was gorgeous! Her hair was slicked back and she had on 4 in heels and a black minidress with a trench coat over her arm.
The coat was tossed in a chair and she turned to me and Said " Hello. Carlos thought you might like me." In a tentative insecure voice.
I froze for a sec then remembered the recorder in my hand. I pressed the play button. " I do! Now baby, take off your cloths." came a deep resonant voice.
My wife had obviously found some voice modification software on the Internet. The sound system magically came on to a driving stripper beat. She reached clumsily for the back of her dress with a look of fright on her face.
"No No. Not like that. Turn around and do it sexy!" came the voice from the recorder.
She stopped and turned around to show me a perfect ass and long beautiful legs. I was pretty sure she had never worn a dress that short before.
